


drink it anyways

by howlingheartdemigod (helpmeimstuckon)



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, Hurt/Comfort, I don't know how to tag this, Minor Injuries, messy emotions lead to messy actions, some non explicit stuff in the middle there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-10-27 06:47:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17761844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helpmeimstuckon/pseuds/howlingheartdemigod
Summary: Yasha dipped the cloth in the water, then reached to tilt Beau’s head back. She wiped blood away, trying to see if the injuries were bad enough to need healing. She caught Beau’s gaze, blue eyes boring into her.“You’re back.” Beau’s voice was soft, reverent.Yasha’s eyes lifted from the task at hand to meet Beau’s gaze. “And you,” she said, something sad sparking in her eyes. “Are a drunk idiot.”-Yasha returns. Beau's not in the best state when she does.





	drink it anyways

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted as a prompt fill on tumblr. "Beauyasha or Lavorregard angst with a dialogue prompt of "I-I don't understand, I thought you weren't going to do this again.""  
> Find me there at howlingheartdemigod  
> Leave a comment to tell me what you think
> 
> title from an atticus poem  
> "It seems to me,  
> that love could be labeled poison  
> and we'd drink it anyways"

The tavern was seedy as all fuck. Yasha didn’t even want to go in. It was the sort of place that made her skin crawl. But, it was where Jester said Beau had run off to hours earlier. Jes couldn’t look Yasha in the eye when she said it, which made Yasha’s stomach twist. Looking around the place, looking at the ongoing fight, wasn’t hard to understand why.

Yasha moved around the ring in the middle, eyes scanning the room. She let out a little annoyed sigh, seeing the slumped figure in blue in the corner. Yasha got a glass of water and rag from the bar. She walked over, and put her arm around Beau’s waist to help her stand. Beau startled as soon as Yasha hauled her up, and looked over. She closed her eyes, head shaking like she was trying to dislodge a memory, muttering something about Fjord.

“Fjord is at the inn.” Yasha said, leading her out of the bar and into the cold night air. She pulled her along a few blocks, wanting to be away from the noise and the smell of the place. She stopped between two street lamps, at the mouth of an alleyway. She leaned Beau against a wall, helping her sit on one of the dryer patches that had been left after the storm that had blown through.

Yasha dipped the cloth in the water, then reached to tilt Beau’s head back. She wiped blood away, trying to see if the injuries were bad enough to need healing. She caught Beau’s gaze, blue eyes boring into her.

“You’re back.” Beau’s voice was soft, reverent.

Yasha’s eyes lifted from the task at hand to meet Beau’s gaze. “And you,” she said, something sad sparking in her eyes. “Are a drunk idiot.”

Yasha dipped the rag back into the water, and rung it out, trying not to be affected by the amount of blood that came off it. She surveyed her work, happy Beau’s face was less blood and sweat covered, even if it was still bashed. Yasha was again trapped in Beau’s gaze when Beau lifted a hand and brushed it against her cheek.

“You’re really back?” Beau asked, voice tinged with sadness and fear.

Yasha stared at her, wanting to ask, needing to know, how many times the alcohol and the reckless fighting, and Beau’s own hope had convinced her that Yasha had returned before. Yasha lifted a hand to lay over Beau’s showing her she was solid, she was real. Her thumb traced the broken skin on Beau's knuckles, causing a sharp hiss of air between Beau’s lips.

“I am really here.” she promised. She pulled Bau’s hand away, and started to treat the wounds there.

“You’re sure?” Beau asked. Yasha looked up, seeing the pain in those beautiful blue eyes, eyes that haunted her.

Yasha looked back down, then closed her eyes, focusing on the small well of magic energy deep within her. She let it flow through her, and lifted Beau’s hand to her lips, pouring healing magic into Beau. “I’m sure.” She said.

Beau shook her head. “Yasha don’t waste healing…”

“Hush, Beauregard.” Yasha’s voice was rough, head shaking. Now, with the wounds mostly healed, she could focus on getting Beau cleaned up. “Caring for you is not a waste. Though it is often infuriating.”

Beau let out a little huff, looking past Yasha, to some point far off. Maybe the stars, maybe the lights of the city. “Yeah, well the feeling is mutual.”

Yasha swallowed around a lump in her throat. “We are not doing this right now, Beau.”

“Course not.” the retort was quick, tilting her head back against the brick.

“I am not doing this when you’re drunk.” She said, fixing Beau with a stern look.

“You aren’t going to do this anyway.” she accused, chin lifting defiantly.

Yasha starred at her a moment, getting angry. “Fine, you want to know what I have to say?” she asked, dropping Beau’s hand. “I- I don’t understand, Beauregard. I thought you weren’t going to so this again.” She said, gesturing to the whole of Beau. “You said you weren’t going to go looking for stupid fights anymore. You promised me I wouldn’t find you drunk and beaten again.”

“Yeah, and you said you’d still be there in the morning.” Beau retorted, shoving herself a little more upright. “You promised me, and I woke to an empty bed.”

“Beau, it’s more complicated-”

“Is it? Because it doesn’t feel like it. Let’s run through it. You almost die. I almost had to watch you go, just like Molly. Then when you were okay, when we were safe back at the inn, you kiss me. _You_ kissed _me_. And then we…” Beau trailed off and shook her head, but it didn’t matter. The memories came to Yasha regardless.

Memories of hot skin pressed together, pulling and twisting like they were trying to become one. Memories of teeth tugging at kiss swollen lips, at skin, leaving undeniable marks on the dark skin, trying to inarguably claim Beau as hers. Memories of fingers trying to find the right purchase on hot slick skin, desperate to find that ecstasy she’d been so long lacking. And memories of how eager Beau was to return the actions, how good she was at it.

Yasha shook her head, shook the thoughts away as Beau found her voice. “You laid in bed with me and promised as I fell asleep that you would be there when I woke up.” Beau took a breath, her voice taking on an accusatory tone when she spoke again. “and then you were gone.”

Yasha shook her head. “I do not…” her voice caught on the lie. “ I do not control the call of the Stormlord.”

Beau stared at her a moment, then let out a humorless laugh, turning her gaze past her. “It didn’t rain that night, Yash.”

Yasha bit her lip, and returned to wiping blood off her.

They went silent then, the pain between a physical thing. Yasha stood, and moved to help Beau up, an arm around her waist. Beau let her help. She was stubborn, but not stupid, normally. Yasha lead her back through the city, only stopping to step out of the way of a few people here and there. Without warning, in the middle of an empty square, Beau stopped, eyes lifted to the heavens.

“You could just have stayed. Said it was a mistake. I’m not against one night stands.” She said, before taking a ragged breath. “I wouldn’t have mentioned it.”

Yasha moved to look her more directly in the eye, “Beau, you aren’t a mistake. It’s… It’s so much more complicated.”

Beau let out a little breath. “If you say so, Yash.” Beau closed her eyes, tilting her eyes back down, and tried to push on. But Yasha couldn’t let her. She couldn’t stand herself if she let Beau believe that.

“I was scared, Beauregard. I was… I couldn’t let that be a one night thing. I could never have a one night thing with you. And it terrified me. Because I am not supposed to want that.”

Beau swallowed. “Yeah, I know.”

“But I did.” she implored. “I wanted you. I _want_ you.” She lifted a hand to her face, clutching her like a long lost love. “And that terrified me. It still does. So I had to go. I had to go… figure out if she, if Zuala would ever forgive me for loving you. I had to go chase down a storm.” She swallowed, meeting Beau’s nervous gaze. “I ran because I love you, Beauregard. With all of what I am.”

Beau swallowed, a hand lifting to Yasha’s shoulder. “Yeah?” she asked.

“Yeah.” Yasha parroted. “I stood in the eye of the storm, and I heard I her voice. She told me… She told me that if I didn’t love you, love you the way I didn’t get to love her, then I was a fool. And, quite frankly, I agree.”

Beau's hard expression melted away, revealing a look of relief, of joy. She let out a little laugh, and ducked forward, kissing Yasha on the lips. There was a little taste of rust, whatever Beau had been drinking, and something like the tang in the air after lightning strikes. Beauregard tasted like magic.

Yasha wasn’t sure of much, but she knew for certain where she’d be in the morning; wherever Beauregard was.


End file.
